


Joys of Baking

by Sheepie



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Baking, Body Worship, Bottom!Harry, Chubby!Harry, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Retirement, Weight Gain, Weight Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-11
Updated: 2016-11-11
Packaged: 2018-08-30 09:23:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8527711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sheepie/pseuds/Sheepie
Summary: Harry thought upon his return he could take back the mantle of Galahad. He never expected to retire. No longer the agent he used to be, Harry tackles this new life with the help of Eggsy and a little baking. But a year of rich cakes and savory puddings adds up, and now Harry is faced with a whole new dilemma. He's gained quite a bit of weight and he isn't sure how to cope with it. Eggsy, on the other hand, loves it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Dieting and weight issues.
> 
> Self-betaed.
> 
> Worked on this to make myself feel better. Plus I really like the idea of chubby!Harry.

            After the coma, the surgeries, the physical therapy and speech therapy, after months of laborious recovery, Harry returned to a state of living. For the first time in almost a year he felt complete again, only burdened by the slight tremor in his hand and the murky vision in his left eye. While the occasional word or memory were like stars in his peripheral, he found himself returning to a life he’d been sure had been stolen from him.

            Somehow, against many trials, Harry defied the odds and survived a bullet to the brain. Perhaps Merlin was right and Harry was favored by the gods—or had performed some miracle in a former life to have such a deep well of luck—or maybe it was because Kingsman was at the meridian of science, redefining the paradigm of medicine so that even a pointblank shot in the face couldn’t keep their agents down.

            Fate, stupid luck, or medical science—none of it really mattered to Harry. All that did matter was that he was home, and given everything he’d been through, and the world had been through, things were back to normal.

            The precarious state of the world, while not completely repaired, was on its way to recovery, just as Harry himself had been. And at some point between all the therapy and surgeries, Harry had sat down and spoken with Eggsy, had cleared the air with his young prodigy and apologized for what he’d said. Their relationship, which had been suspended in a state of tense stasis, now flourished.

            All was well, Harry could say, better than well if he were honest. Even if his feelings for Eggsy were constantly resting on the tip of his tongue, waiting to spill out, he couldn’t complain—accept for one small matter.

            “Retirement?” Harry balked at the very idea. “You can’t be serious.”

            “I’m afraid so,” Merlin said, thankfully without any pity. Harry wasn’t sure how he’d handle pity coming from Merlin.

            “Surely there’s something for me here. Surveillance missions.”

            “Ye and I both know ye hate surveillance missions. Besides, even if ye could, ye’r memory isn’t wot it used to, and y’r vision is spotty.” Merlin drew in a deep breath and looked down at his clipboard, which seemed to be married to his hand. “Harry, ye didn’t pass a single test.  Well, other than the NPL.”

            “That can’t be right,” Harry said, but even as the words escaped him, he knew it was true. He knew it while he was retaking the physical. Retaking each and every exam and trial Kingsman threw at him. He just wasn’t the agent he used to be. While he came back from the dead, he didn’t fully escape untarnished. Valentine may not have taken his physical life, but he’d certainly taken the only life Harry ever knew. “Then what, am I to be confined to a desk? A handler?”

            “Arthur doesn’t feel that ye’r efforts would be wise there,” Merlin said. “Harry, ye know as well as I do, it takes a lot of concentration to be a handler. The strain would be too much for yer mind. Even though ye’re home, ye’re still recovering.”

            “But retirement?” It couldn’t be. “What am I supposed to do then?”

            He’d never considered retirement. Never considered the possibility. He’d always assumed he’d die in the line of duty, like every other decent Kingsman agent. It was the life he’d chosen.

            “Perhaps ye can pursue a hobby,” Merlin suggested. “I hear they teach baking classes at night.”

            Harry fitted Merlin with a deadpanned glare, and Merlin responded with a one-shoulder shrug. “Travel, read. There’s plenty to do. This isn’t a death sentence Harry.”

            _It might as well be._ Harry didn’t answer, but he suspected Merlin knew what he was thinking by the eye roll he gave him.

* * * *

            When Harry got home he sat quietly in his office for the next few hours and studied the Sun newspaper clippings plastered on the orange walls. His life, all of his glories and failures, all of the happiness and suffering he’d endured, were neatly cataloged in straight lines. To think that everything he’d done could be boiled down to these moments, to football games and celebrity scandals.

            He picked up his glass of scotch and took a sip. He’d considered adding a clipping to memorialize his return, to remember V-Day, but that was one moment in history he would prefer to forget.

            “Now what do I do?” Harry pondered out loud.

            Suddenly the world seemed so much bigger than he remembered. His world had been a series of ones and zeroes, a sequence of repetitions and events, scheduled by Merlin or Arthur. Harry had always known his purpose, always known his place in the world. He’d been a cog that fit in the machine, helping it run smoothly.

            Now he had none of this, just one giant open slot of freedom. And he never felt more scared and shackled.

            His cellphone rang, jarring him from his ruminations. He answered without looking at the caller.

            “Hello?”

            “’Arry!” Eggsy greeted, the familiar voice a balm over his anxious heart. “I hear congratulations are in order!”

            “I would certainly hope not,” Harry said before he could stop himself.

            “Not excited then?”

            “About being strong armed out of Kingsman?” He didn’t mean to sound so bitter, but damn it. How was he supposed to feel? He was finally getting his life back on track and then Merlin blindsided him with this.

            What hope he’d been starting to revel in suddenly diminished and he was left with only one truth: he was a broken man in a broken world. Perhaps he should have died back in the parking lot.

            “Y’ weren’t strong armed. Y’ can visit any time,” Eggsy said.

            “I don’t see a reason to come.”

            “Y’ could come for me,” Eggsy said, tone a touch softer than before.

            That gave Harry pause, and the brief heartbeat of silence swelled between them. Eggsy coughed over the line and quickly added, “But y’ know, I understand. Being upset and all. Retirement isn’t exactly exciting. But who knows, now y’ can go out and meet people. Maybe y’ll… maybe y’ll find someone, start dating.”

            Harry looked down at his tumbler of half-finished scotch and considered his possibilities. He could either sink deeper into his maudlin thoughts or he could do what he always did, adapt and grow. He was, after all, Harry Hart, the man that lived.

            “Eggsy,” Harry said, the name smoothly rolling off his tongue and sending a shiver through his belly. “Would you like to get dinner with me sometime?”

            There was only the briefest hesitation, before Eggsy let out a shaky exhale and whispered excitedly, “ _Yes Harry!_ ”

* * * *

            Harry plodded through his first year of retirement with surprising grace and civility. Much to Merlin’s surprise, Harry had taken his suggestion of baking classes to heart and started exploring the culinary world. Coupled with his growing relationship with Eggsy, Harry found life after Kingsman rather pleasant. It certainly wasn’t the nightmare he’d been prepared to face. Baking gave him a sense of control over his hands and helped him focus his mind. It was therapeutic, and when the nightmares from Valentine’s Day became too much, or his despondency grew too grand, Harry could always lose himself in whipping up a batch of French macaroons or cupcakes.

            Harry opened the oven and pulled out the tray of cookies he was making for Daisy’s class. He popped the second cookie sheet into the oven, set the timer, and then transferred the piping hot chocolate chip cookies onto a cooling rack. JB watched from his corner of the kitchen, his large eyes tracking Harry as he moved back and forth.

            It had taken some sorting out, but Harry had come to an understanding with the cantankerous pug. JB could remain in the kitchen and watch, from a specially bought doggy bed, and if he didn’t get underfoot while Harry worked, he was rewarded with a handmade treat Harry prepared specifically for him.

            JB’s ears perked when Harry drifted closer to the cookie jar labeled ‘JB’s Snacks’, but Harry didn’t get him one just yet. JB huffed and dropped his head back onto the cushion.

            A jingling at the front door had both Harry and JB perking up and turning to the source of the sound. The door opened, and a few minutes later Eggsy walked into the kitchen, dressed in a bespoke navy suit that accentuated his narrow waist.

            “Hello love,” Eggsy greeted, reaching for one of the still hot cookies.

            Harry slapped his hand away. “Those are for Daisy.”

            “Oi, that’s no way to greet me,” Eggsy said, but didn’t reach for the cookie again.

            Harry rolled his eyes good-naturedly but kissed Eggsy’s cheek nonetheless. “How was your day, darling?”

            “Busy. Got assigned to a new mission,” Eggsy said.

In the beginning Eggsy had danced around the subject, apprehensive to bring up any reminders of what Harry had lost. Harry would be lying if he didn’t admit it had stung in the beginning, watching Eggsy whisk off to exotic locations, living the life Harry had fought so hard to obtain. But the ache that throbbed in his heart had dulled with time and Harry realized he no longer missed those days, the constant traveling, the hotels, being forced to reach elbows deep into the shit of humanity. He didn’t miss being a vagrant, a ghost to the world. He didn’t miss existing instead of living.

            “When do you leave?” Harry asked as he retrieved a treat for JB.

            JB jumped out of his bed and rushed over to Harry. He knelt down, and no sooner he held his palm out, JB had lapped up the small dog biscuit

            “Tomorrow. It’ll probably be about a week,” Eggsy said, and the note of hesitance in his voice made Harry look up.

            “What’s wrong?” Harry’s knees protested as he stood, another reminder of how old he was getting. “That isn’t very long at all. Is it a serious mission?”

            He knew Eggsy couldn’t share the details, but in the past if missions were on the more hazardous side, Eggsy would tell him. It gave them a chance to spend their last moments together, incase… Harry didn’t want to think about the in case.

            “No, not really,” Eggsy said. The vagueness made Harry raise an eyebrow.

            “What is it then darling? You look as if you’re being sent off to Antarctica—you aren’t, are you? Did you steal Merlin’s tablet again? I told you he doesn’t find that funny.”

            “No, no I didn’t—but thanks for the vote of confidence. It’s just…” Eggsy sighed, rubbing his sharply cut jaw. “It’s a honeypot mission. I’ll be going to surveillance the area, and then bump into the mark at an event.”

            “Oh,” Harry said, not sure how to respond to the confession.

            “I know we’ve talked about me doing them, and wot it meant, but now that it’s here, well…” Eggsy’s face twisted, worry creasing his brow. He’d probably been working himself into a ball of knots all day. Harry pressed his thumb to Eggsy’s bottom lip, forcing him to stop biting it. Eggsy kissed the pad of his thumb. “If y’ aren’t okay with this, I can talk to Merlin.”

            “This is part of the job, darling,” Harry said. He didn’t relish at the thought of Eggsy with another, but they knew the moment would come. Quite frankly he was surprised it hadn’t happened sooner. He supposed they had Merlin to thank for that. “It’s fine. It’s only a mission. I’ll be here when you come home.”

            Eggsy searched his face, and whatever fear he’d been holding onto, finally fell away. He nodded, a small smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.

            “Okay,” Eggsy said.

            “Okay.” Harry kissed him, allowing himself to sink into the warmth and comfort that Eggsy embodied. He loosely looped an arm around Eggsy’s waist. It would never cease to marvel him how someone as amazing as Eggsy chose to be with him, but he would always be thankful.

            He didn’t realize until they parted that Eggsy had snaked his arm around his waist. Eggsy snatched his hand back, brandishing a cookie. Before Harry could grab it, Eggsy popped it into his mouth and danced away.

            “You little shit,” Harry laughed.

JB barked, prancing over to Eggsy, who finished his cookie in a few quick bites. Eggsy moaned as he licked the last few crumbs from his fingers. “Jesus fucking Christ, babe. Tell me y’ made some for us.”

“Well I did, but if you insist on stealing more, I think I’ll just send them all with Ms. Daisy.” He started to laugh at the look of horror that Eggsy gave him. Harry picked up another cookie and handed it to Eggsy. “Spoiled thing.”

“Yeah, but y’ still love me,” Eggsy stated, accepting the cookie.

“That I do.”

* * * *

            Harry opened the door to a torrent of rain and a soggy Merlin standing on his door step. Merlin nudged his way in, shaking out his umbrella, and grumbled under his breath, “This is why I don’t leave my home.”

            He collapsed his umbrella and put it in the stand next to the door. It used to be filled with Kingsman-issued umbrellas. Even now, when Harry reached for his Swaine Adeney umbrella, he felt a ping of yearning for his Rainmaker.

            “You don’t leave your home because you’re a reclusive hermit with worse social skills than Marvin the robot,” Harry said. He led Merlin into the living room and fixed him a scotch. “Here, this’ll warm your bones.”

            “Did you just compare me to a robot?” Merlin arched a brow, and the intimidating glare he fixed Harry with would have made a lesser man piss himself. But Harry had known Merlin for well over thirty years and had grown quite accustomed to his bone chilling stares.

            “Certainly not,” Harry said. “That would be an insult to the robot.”

            “I’m leaving.”

            “None of that,” Harry laughed. He waved his hand in the direction of the dining room. “Dinner is ready and I made your favorite for pudding.”

            Merlin harrumphed, but headed for the dining room. It wasn’t hard to cajole him with the promise of sweets. Harry had learned two decades ago that the best way to handle a surly Merlin was to offer him a toffee or biscuit. Harry—and eventually Percival and a few other agents—had taken to keeping hard candies in their pockets and packets of chocolate digestives in their desk drawers for when Merlin was on a rampage.

            “Gawain asked out Kay today,” Merlin said as he took a seat at the table. “For a man who has been known to seduce nuns, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so nervous.”

            “Kay? He’s the newest agent, correct?”

            “Has only been on the roster for two months. Filled the last open position. Brilliant lad, could have easily become my protégé if he had wanted to. If he hadn’t passed the final test, I would have taken him on. Gets along swimmingly with Eggsy and Roxy, but then again they are the youngest of the agents now.”

            “I’m surprised Richard was interested in him, he’d always seemed the perennial bachelor.”

            “We had said that about ye once,” Merlin pointed out.

            Harry paused. Before Eggsy Harry really had never seen himself settling down. Sure there had been a person here or there, especially in his younger days. But the life of a spy wasn’t very conducive for healthy relationships, and the older Harry got, the more he realized he was far too set in his ways and selfish to ever accommodate another person. At least, that was until Eggsy swaggered into his life.

            “Oh wipe that sodding smile off yer face, ye’re about as disgusting as Gawain. Ye’ll both be intolerable now too.”

            “You’re just jealous,” Harry sniffed. “Perhaps it’s time you settle down, old boy.”

            “Do I smell something burning?” Merlin asked.

            Harry rolled his eyes, but hurried into the kitchen to check on his roast. He grabbed two oven mits and opened the oven door, letting out a waft of heat. Luckily the roast he’d been making _wasn’t_ burnt like Merlin had suggested, and was actually rather perfectly cooked. He bent down and started to withdraw the pan, when he simultaneously felt _and_ heard his trousers rip at the seam.

            Harry pulled the roast out, set it on the stove, and slammed the door shut. He threw the mittens on the counter and craned around to try and get a good look at his bottom. Blindly he reached back, fingers snagging on a clean tear that ran along his crack.

            “Fucking shite.” How could his pants rip? They were _bespoke_ dammit, perfectly tailored for his body.

            “Harry, everything all right?” Merlin called at Harry’s loud swear.

            “Bugger all, my pants tore,” Harry admitted. He turned the oven off and left the roast to rest.

Merlin raised an eyebrow at him when he walked back into the dining room. “Tore? Did they catch on something?”

“No,” Harry huffed. It made no sense why they would tear. These were Kingsman clothes. “Bloody things just ripped down the seam when I bent over.” Merlin blinked, a slow smile spreading across his face. When he didn’t say anything, Harry asked, “What? What is it?”

“Well, it’s just…” Merlin waved vaguely in front of him, shedding no farther clarity on what he was trying to say.

“Oh just bloody say it,” Harry snapped.

“Well, I wasn’t going to say anything, mostly because I thought ye realized, but Harry, ye’ve put on a wee bit of weight. Enough it seems to tear yer pants,” Merlin explained. “Bring them by the shop, Dagonet can repair them and let them out at the waist.”

“Let them out at the… what in the world are you going on about? I haven’t gained any weight.”

As soon as he said it, Harry realized that was a lie. His pants had been getting tighter for a while. Even his shirts felt more snug. He’d taken to wearing his cardigans and looser button downs. He’d even had to let out on his belt.

“Bollocks,” Harry whispered with dawning horror. “I’m bloody fat.”

“Ye aren’t fat Harry.”

“But I am,” Harry said, and didn’t that just kill his hunger. He needed a drink.

“Harry, ye’ve just put on a stone, maybe even less,” Merlin said. “It happens. Ye aren’t as active as ye used to be, it’s no big deal.”

“Just a stone?” More like two stones. “No big deal?”

Harry strode out of the room and up the stairs. Merlin called after him, “Harry, wait,” but Harry ignored him. He went to the bathroom and found the scale he’d bought a couple years ago. It had grown slightly dusty from not being used. Eggsy got weighed at Kingsman HQ and Harry saw no need to check on his weight—or he had before he realized he’d ballooned up to the side of an elephant.

He set the scale on the bathroom tiles and stepped on. In the few seconds it took to calculate his weight, Harry’s stomach managed to rocket into outer space. The counter stopped, and there in clear binary numbers, he could see he had put on two stones plus a little.

Merlin was still at the dining table when Harry finally managed to trudge back down the stairs, this time in a pair of pajama bottoms.

“Are ye done?” Merlin asked. “Harry it isn’t that big of a deal.”

“Says the man that could bench press a fiat,” Harry grumbled, and while he knew it was childish and petty, he stomped back into the kitchen to serve their meal.

Dear god, two stones?

He wasn’t vain—despite what Merlin seemed to believe—but he also wasn’t a delusional man. He was getting up in his years, with more gray appearing at his temples and the lines mapping his face growing deeper each day. He still suffered from tremors, migraines, and his vision was far from what it used to be. He spent most days with actual prescription glasses and not Kingsman-issued ones.

All he had going for him was his physique, which in the beginning he had managed to maintain.

But it seemed a year of continuous baking and cooking, sampling said puddings and succulent dinners, had finally added up.

Merlin, bless him, tried to steer the conversation toward something else, informing Harry about Roxy’s relationship with Amelia, Lamorak’s fiasco in Berlin, and Percival’s new cat problems, but all it did was remind Harry about what he’d lost, and what he still could lose.

* * * *

            Throughout his prolific career, Harry had always been known for his charisma and magnetism. His ability to charm had secured his place as the round table’s lead agent for honey pot missions. While Harry didn’t consider himself narcissistic, he’d always taken pride in the fact that among an agency of dashing men, he superseded them. He’d always been the first in consideration, and only if he were involved with another mission, did Kingsman proceed down the line of agents.

            Now though? Now Harry was sure Kingsman wouldn’t even bat an eye at him. The sad reality was that Harry had fallen far from his former glory. He could no longer hold a gun. His depth perception was shot. And, to add insult to injury, he was a walking beached whale.

            “Ye haven’t gained _that_ much,” Merlin had said the next day when he called to check on Harry.

            ‘That much’ still meant he had gained weight, enough so to rip his pants. Did Eggsy notice? Had he realized how much Harry had ballooned before he left for the mission?

            Maybe Eggsy saw it as a relief, a chance to escape Harry and the myriad of problems saddled with him. Harry realized as they days passed and the trembling in his hands increased and the pain behind his eye throbbed like someone was repeatedly stabbing him with an icepick, that he truly was a burden. All old, decrypted, gargantuan burden.

            The day after Merlin came over for dinner, Harry tried to go to the gym. He did fine on the treadmill for a short while, but when he moved to the weights, his hands had cramped up. He suffered through ten minutes of piteous looks, but called it quits when an attendant offered to show him some equipment that might work better for him. Harry had politely declined and returned home, where pooled his frustrations into baking a batch of snickerdoodles.

            No sooner the cookies finished cooling, he reached for one to try. He was halfway through the cookie when he realized what he was doing. He immediately spat it out, threw the half-eaten cookie in the trash, then boxed up the rest. Together with JB, Harry walked the cookies over to Michelle.

            Michelle had offered him dinner in return, but Harry wasn’t much for company, so he declined and returned home, where he prepared a small, unsatisfying salad for dinner.

            “I’m afraid it’s only these for now on,” Harry told JB as he picked at the lightly dressed lettuce. JB cocked his head to the side, then dropped his head into his paws and whimpered. Harry sighed. “I agree.”

            As the days passed, and Harry watched himself more and more in the mirrors around the house, he became more conscious of the weight saddled around his waist. He felt each step with the gravity of his body. He became aware of the soft give of his belly whenever he leaned against the counter. Each time he ate something— _anything_ —he regretted it.

            He wasn’t sure if it was the stress, the lack of food he consumed, or just the normal bouts of headaches, but he spent half his days now bed ridden, sick to his stomach from a migraine.

            “Ye’re being ridiculous,” Merlin told him. “Eggsy doesn’t give a shite about how ye look, Harry. He loves ye.”

            No, Eggsy loves the man he used to be. He loves the Harry who waited for him outside Holborn Police Station. He loves the man who fought Dean’s dogs in the Black Prince. He loves the man Harry can no longer be.

            Eggsy didn’t sign up for having to help Harry when he can’t get his hand to work. He didn’t sign up for holding Harry when he wakes up in a cold sweat, overcome by night terrors and memories of the church. He didn’t sign up for constant doctor’s appointments. He didn’t sign up for a fat old man.

            And now the bright light in Harry’s life, the only reason he even managed to survive a life after Kingsman, would go out if Harry didn’t at least get his weight under control. He may not be able to fix his hands or his brain, but he could very well at least give Eggsy a man worth looking at.

            Two days before Eggsy was too return, Harry packed up his baking supplies—all the flour, sugar, pans, mixers, and piping utensils—and brought them over to Michelle.

            “Wot’s all this for?” Michelle asked, clutching one of the boxes Harry unloaded to her chest.

            A headache dully roared through his head and Harry didn’t quite have the strength to explain his reasoning, so he just smiled and lied, “Oh, just a bit of cleaning. I’ve replaced everything, so I thought you and Daisy might enjoy these.”

            Michelle’s mouth thinned and she picked up a half-empty package of flour. “Replaced the flour too, did y’?”

            “Yes,” Harry said. He offered a strained smile in further explanation. Her gaze narrowed and Harry took a step back towards the taxi waiting on him. All his life he’d run headfirst into battles. Now he was running away. “I’m afraid I must go, still a lot to do before Eggsy’s return. We’ll see you Sunday for dinner?”

            Michelle gave a stiff nod. “Harry—”

            “Lovely, I’ll see you and Ms. Daisy then.” And like the coward he was, he escaped into the taxi and returned home.

* * * *

            Harry hoped that he’d lose some weight in the few days. He knew he wouldn’t see a drastic change, but he’d hoped for at least two or so pounds. Somehow, though, Harry had gained two.

            How the fuck did that happen?

He ignored the rumbling in his stomach. It wasn’t even really a rumble, but more of a soulless groan, begging for food, for something more than naked salads and celery sticks. JB crunched on kibble in the corner of the kitchen and Harry couldn’t help but wonder if it tasted better than the rice cracker he’d eaten that morning.

            Eggsy would be home soon. Merlin had called to let him know Eggsy’s plane had landed a little over an hour ago. He’d most likely take a shower, debrief, and then be on his way home. Normally Harry would have Eggsy’s favorite macaroons or cookies waiting for him. The scent of warm cinnamon and brown sugar would billow enticingly throughout the house.

            Now everything smelled faintly of the furniture polish Harry used during his morning cleaning.

            The kettle whistled on the stove. Harry grabbed it and turned the burner off. He may not have sweets to greet Eggsy, but he could at least fix a nice cuppa for him. Steam rose from teapot as Harry poured the hot water over the leaves. He set the kettle aside and arranged everything on the tray. Next to the two floral china cups were a plate of Eggsy’s favorite biscuits. Harry managed to restrain himself from tossing them out when he cleared out the cabinets of anything sweet or fatty.

            A pang of hunger echoed in his stomach. He didn’t realize how much he enjoyed eating until he stopped, and now it was like constantly seeing an ex wherever he went. Harry reached for one of the chocolate digestives—surely one wouldn’t hurt—but paused midway. He clenched his fingers, then dropped his hand. One meant another pound on his hips. Another pound to separate him from Eggsy.

            Harry grabbed the tray and carried it into the living room. The front door rattled, announcing Eggsy’s return. JB barked and rushed out of the kitchen. Harry smoothed his hands down his trousers—a pair of lounge pants since he couldn’t bear to bring in his old ones to be let out—and went to greet Eggsy.

            Eggsy stumbled in, kicking the door closed behind him. The exhaustion on his face melted as soon as he spotted Harry, and a warmth bubbled in the base of Harry’s sternum. Eggsy grinned and said, “Hello love.”

            JB barked, pawing at Eggsy’s legs. Eggsy crouched with a laugh and scratched him behind the ear. “Hello to do y’ too boy.”

            Harry instinctively went to kiss Eggsy, and the press of soft lips against his eased some of the tension that had knotted through Harry all week. It snapped back into place, though, when Eggsy stepped back and said, “Christ I’ve missed y’. Here, let me get a good look at y’.”

            “I have tea, why don’t you come have a cup,” Harry said before Eggsy could study him too closely.

            Eggsy looked like he was going to argue, but Harry turned, and as calmly as he could, escaped into the living room. Eggsy trailed behind him, JB at his heels. At Eggsy’s order, JB went to his bed and flopped down.

            “Did y’ have a good week?” Eggsy took a seat on the couch beside Harry.

            “It was fine,” Harry answered vaguely, pouring two cups of tea. Usually he added two lumps of sugar to his, but he went without the sweetener this time.

            “Mum texted me,” Eggsy continued. “Said y’ gave her y’r old baking stuff. Didn’t realize y’ were buying new ones.”

            Harry set the teapot down and paused. “Oh, yes, I thought it might be something Daisy would enjoy.”

            “Yeah, she’s been loving it from wot mum said.” A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth, but it was gone before it could flourish. “Wot made y’ buy new stuff though?”

            Harry shrugged non-committedly and passed Eggsy his saucer and cup. The china rattled, Harry’s grip threatening to go out. He clenched his teeth, willing his tremulous fingers to still.

            Eggsy sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth and took the saucer and cup, immediately setting it down. He wrapped his hands around Harry’s and whispered, “Merlin was right. Look at y’, y’re hands are shaking. Has this been going on all week?”

            “It’s nothing,” Harry assured, trying to tug his hand from Eggsy’s grip. Eggsy tightened his hold, running his thumb across Harry’s knuckles. “Really, just a small tremor. Nothing more.”

            “Harry, Merlin told me wot happened.”

            “Bollocks,” Harry grumbled and when he tugged at his hand again, Eggsy let it go. He dropped his hands in his lap. “And what did he tell you?”

            “That y’ got upset about y’r weight, that y’ve been making y’rself sick with worry. Y’ know the doctor said stress came trigger the tremors and headaches—have y’ been getting migraines again?”

            “I’m not some invalid, I know how to care for myself,” Harry snapped, even though he knew that wasn’t what Eggsy meant.

            “I ain’t saying that babe,” Eggsy said and scooted closer. He reached for Harry, and Harry flinched away. Eggsy sighed. “Look at me love.”

            How could he? How could he look at Eggsy and see disappoint in his eyes again? How often had Harry put that look on Eggsy’s face?

            “Baby,” Eggsy coaxed.

            Harry clenched his hands, shoving them between his knees to hide the fact that they couldn’t be still. A tightness spread through his chest. His ribcage had begun to shrink, to compress his lungs until all the air was pushed from his body.

            He was a seasoned Kingsman agent. He’d bedded royalty. He dismantled terrorist cells. He faced countless terrors and enemies and obstacles, and he couldn’t bring himself to face Eggsy, to face the reality that he had grown obsolete. He’d been given a taste of happiness, a sample of what he could have, and then he lost it. Maybe this was the price he paid for his sins. All the blood he drenched his hands in would finally be washed away with his misery.

            Fingers glided across his cheeks and he jolted back. “Christ, love, breathe for me. Breathe baby,” Eggsy instructed calmingly. Eggsy drew in deep breaths and exhaled slowly. Harry leaned into his touch instinctively, mimicking Eggsy’s breathing patterns until the pressure in his chest subsided. “That’s it, nice and easy. There y’ go. Good baby, good.”

            The dots that had begun to dance in front of Harry’s vision faded out. He squeezed his eyes shut and drew in a final, stabilizing breath.

            “Harry, love, look at me.” Eggsy whispered. “ _Please_.”

            At the earnest request, Harry opened his eyes. Eggsy smoothed his palm against Harry’s cheek, sliding it down to cup his jaw. “Look at y’, Christ. Y’ve worked y’r self into a right mess, haven’t y’?”

            Harry searched his face, hunting for a trace of disgust, but all he could find was unconditional love.

            “What can I provide you? What could I possibly give you that could make me worthy of you?” Harry whispered. Saying it out loud made it real. He couldn’t take it back. His mouth went dry, causing his tongue to stick to the roof of his mouth.

            “Worthy of me?” Eggsy repeated incredulously, shaking his head. “Baby, I love y’. I love y’ more than anything. All of y’, no matter what shape or form y’ come in.”

            “I’m an old man Eggsy,” Harry said, pulling away from Eggsy’s touch. “I can barely see out of my left eye. There isn’t a cup safe in the house due to my inability to control my hands. I’m not the agent I was. I’m not even a pale shadow of him. Everything I was, everything I have known, was stripped away. I’ve lost it all. All I had was…” He waved vaguely at his body. “As you said, ‘a fit arse body’. But now… now I don’t even have that. Why would I burden you with this? You could have someone so much better, someone that won’t hold you back. It isn’t fair to shackle you to this mess, not when you deserve so much better.”

            “Harry Hart, y’ listen to me right now,” Eggsy ordered sharply. Harry stiffened, but didn’t speak. “I love y’, god damn it. I don’t care if y’ aren’t an agent anymore. I don’t care wot y’r body looks like. To me y’ will always be Harry. Y’ are _everything_ to me, damn it. There is no me without y’.”

            “Eggsy…”

            “Never doubt that, baby. Never. If I lost y’, I…”

            Harry realized Eggsy’s hands were shaking. Harry sucked in a sharp breath and sealed his own, steady hands over Eggsy’s.

            “I love y’,” Eggsy repeated.

            “I love you too,” Harry whispered. “But…”

            “No, no buts. Don’t I get a say in this? It’s a relationship, innit?” Eggsy met Harry’s gaze and quirked an eyebrow in challenge. “Fucking hell Harry, how could I not love y’? So y’ can’t shoot a gun anymore—that hasn’t stopped your capacity to care.”

Eggsy squeezed Harry’s hands. “Y’ know wot y’ do have? Y’ have a boundless heart. Y’ have a wicked sharp sense of humor. Y’ have eccentricities. Y’ have these eyes that I can never guess wot color they are, no matter how long I stare in to them. Sometimes I think they’re like melted chocolate, other times perfectly steeped tea. Then when the light hits it’s like a nice glass of scotch. I may not always be able to tell the color, but I know y’r eyes, and I know there’s so much life in them.”

Harry swallowed around the words that caught in his throat, his voice lost somewhere in the pit of his stomach.

“Y’ have a scathing sense of anger that can hurt,” Eggsy continued, undeterred. “But it also fuels a passion in y’, this brilliancy. When y’ use it to defend the people y’ care about y’re unstoppable. Y’ never stop fighting. Whether physically or verbally, y’ don’t quit. Y’ stand up for what y’ believe in. Y’re so determined. Y’ speak out for those that are voiceless. Y’ never let y’r stasis dictate y’r life. Y’ understand wot privilege means and y’ve used it to help others. Y’re the most caring, generous person I know.”

Eggsy lifted Harry’s hands and brushed small kisses across his knuckles. “And when y’ smile… I… I knew the moment y’ were leaning against that wall and y’ smiled at me that y’ were the one. People talk about smiles as bright as the sun. Poets prattle on about stars. But it wasn’t none of that. When I saw y’ smile I saw the future. I saw every tomorrow I could ever want. I saw wrinkles and laughter and tears. I saw hope. When I didn’t think there was any left, I found hope in y’.”

“Eggsy… I…”

“I love y’ Harry, I fucking love y’ more than anything in this world.”

Harry dropped his forehead against Eggsy’s. “I’m sorry.”

            “Idiot,” Eggsy laughed wetly. “Ain’t nothing to be sorry for.”

            Harry nodded, his nose bumping against Eggsy’s. Eggsy let go of Harry’s hands and carded his fingers through his hair. He drew Harry close, sealing their mouths together. Harry melted into the kiss, letting all the pain, all the doubt that had festered inside him and tarred his soul, all the negativity that had entrenched him, fell away.

            “Come on,” Eggsy whispered between kisses. Harry raised his eyebrows in silent question, and Eggsy smirked, a salacious twinkle in his eyes. “I’m going to make sure y’ never doubt my love again.”

            Heat rushed through Harry, warming his cheeks. In a whoosh the fire Harry had thought was banked burst to life. Eggsy took his hand and lead him upstairs to their bedroom.

            A wave of nerves spread through him as he stopped in front of the bed and turned to face Eggsy, who stripped wordlessly out of his suit jacket and tie. Eggsy paused and looked at Harry, and for a brief heartbeat neither moved, and then Eggsy crossed the room, forgetting the buttons he was undoing on his own shirt.

            “Let me,” Eggsy said and reached for the hem of Harry’s t-shirt. Harry went to stop him, but Eggsy gently knocked his hands away. Harry sighed and raised his arms so Eggsy could lift his shirt off. Lips were on him before he could even drop his arms.

            Eggsy lathed the column of his neck and nipped across Harry’s shoulders. “Still fucking fit.”

            Before Harry could stop himself, he snorted in disbelief. Eggsy looked up, determination hardening his gaze.

            “On the bed,” Eggy ordered.

            Harry hesitated only briefly. He took a seat on the edge. Eggsy stripped out of his clothes without fanfare, but he didn’t need to in order for Harry to appreciate the view. Eggsy was carved steel. He was thick and sculpted, with thighs that had snapped necks and shoulders built to dominate. He was a compact powerhouse, and Harry had felt that unbridled strength many times.

            Eggsy knelt at Harry’s feet and hooked his fingers along the band of his bottoms. “Even if y’ don’t have all the muscles y’ use to, I still think y’re fit.”

            Eggsy started to pull his lounge bottoms down, and Harry obliged by lifting his hips. Instinct told him to hide, to cover the swell of his belly, his softly thick thighs, the love handles that widened his hips. It grew when Eggsy tossed his trousers aside and reached for his pants.

            “I don’t—“

            “Let me love y’,” Eggsy begged.

            Harry swallowed back his trepidation and nodded. Eggsy removed his pants, and for the first time ever, Harry was conscious of his body. Eggsy glided his hands up Harry’s thighs and hips. Harry wanted to look away, didn’t want to see the disgust on Eggsy’s face, but he couldn’t. Not when Eggsy stared at him so intensely.

            “Look at y’,” Eggsy murmured in awe. “Still so gorgeous.”

            He leaned forward and nuzzled Harry’s stomach, mouthing his way across his belly. Before Harry could stop it, a choked sound escaped him.

            “Lay across the bed, love,” Eggsy instructed as he stood.

            Harry stretched out on the bed, head nestled in the mound of pillows Eggsy insisted were unnecessary. Eggsy crawled onto the bed after him, hovering over Harry, the muscles in his arms tightly corded and bunched as he bore his weight on his hands. He lowered himself as if he were doing a push up and dusted his mouth across Harry’s.

            “I’m going to worship every inch of y’ until y’ realize how gorgeous y’ truly are,” Eggsy whispered.

            And he did. Christ did he. He started along Harry’s jaw, which had always been a sore point, even before this whole weight gain nonsense. Age had worn its sharper definition. Harry tipped his head back when Eggsy moved to his neck. He didn’t remain there long, instead working lower, until he came to Harry’s chest, where the hard lines of his pectorals had given away to a plush softness.

            “Fuck,” Eggsy groaned, lips skimming over one of Harry’s nipples. “Fucking look at these tits, babe.”

            Eggsy cupped Harry, pressing against his chest till it formed a pillow for Eggsy to nibble at. He drew one of Harry’s nipples into his mouth, worrying the nub between his teeth, and suckling hungrily as if he had every intent to feed form Harry.

            A groan bubbled in the back of Harry’s throat. He threw an arm over his eyes and bit down on a finger. He never realized how sensitive his nipples were, but with each suck and flick of Eggsy’s tongue, a current ran from his nipple to his cock.

            “Y’ like that?” Eggsy asked, lifting off with spit-slick lips. He rubbed his thumb along the slippery nubbin, grinning toothily. “Gonna make y’ come one night just from that.”

            But not tonight, it seemed, because after one last firm suck, he started his descent down, navigating a passage along Harry’s stomach. He kissed every inch of Harry, from his belly button, to his hips, which Eggsy murmured approvingly at.

            When he came to the dip of Harry’s belly, where his weight became its most defined, Eggsy paused to kiss and nibble at the rolling flesh. Harry’s cock pressed against Eggsy’s chest, wet and dribbling with precum. Harry’s breath escaped in stuttered pants as Eggsy caressed and kissed him, continuing his worshiping pilgrimage along Harry’s legs.

            Harry nearly sobbed when Eggsy skipped over his achingly hard cock, taking his time to explore Harry’s thighs, calves, and even his toes.

            “Roll over,” Eggsy said when he lifted off and Harry thought he might finally find relief.

            Harry groaned and did as he was told, limbs quivering from his tightly coiled need. Eggsy smoothed his chest over Harry’s back, his cock nudging welcomingly between Harry’s arsecheeks.

            Eggsy started his exploration again, charting a constellation of kisses and bites across Harry’s shoulders, down the slope of his back, and along his hips. When he came to Harry’s arse, he paused.

            A sharp slap caused Harry to jerk forward. “Fuck!”

            “Fuck is right,” Eggsy groaned, grabbing Harry’s arsecheeks and squeezing. “Fucking hell Harry, look at this arse. Fucking wars, I’m telling y’. It’s going to jiggle so fucking nicely.”

            As if for emphasis, he gave another firm slap that Harry felt in his gut and made his cock leak more.

            “Fuck, I can nut right now just watching it,” Eggsy said, his tone transfixed.

            Harry swallowed to wet his throat and said, “Why don’t you pound it instead? I thought you were going to show me how much you wanted me.”

            Eggsy chuckled and rubbed Harry’s side. “Oh I’ll show y’. Y’ll be feeling how much I want y’ for the next week.”

            He leaned over to the nightstand and retrieved the bottle of lubricant they kept on hand. Harry craned his head around to watch as Eggsy slicked his fingers. He rubbed Harry’s hole, letting it teasingly with a promise of what was to come, but never penetrated.

            “Y’ are the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen,” Eggsy said. “I’m not lying when I say I’ll go to war for y’. Never doubt that, love.”

            Harry dropped his forehead onto the pillow and murmured, “I won’t, my darling boy.”

            Eggsy hummed approvingly and finally slid his finger in. There was only the slightest burn as Harry stretched around the intrusion. It was a familiar ache that comforted him, cemented him to the moment. Eggsy took his time working Harry open, building to two fingers as he stroked and pressed deeper, glimpsing over Harry’s prostate but avoiding ever pressing that sensitive button. All the while he nibbled at the globes of Harry’s arse.

            It was a slow, delicious torture. Harry felt more of himself chip way, until all he writhed beneath Eggsy, fucking back onto his digits, desperate in his pursuit for more. He felt like himself again, the confident, hedonistic man who could command a room.

            “Fuck me darling,” Harry ordered with a throaty moan.

            Eggsy withdrew his fingers and Harry clenched around the empty air. “There’s my Harry,” Eggsy said, and even if Harry couldn’t see it, he could hear the grin his words. “Welcome back, baby.”

            The slicked blunt head of Eggsy’s cock glided down his crack and pressed against his fluttering hole. Harry didn’t wait for Eggsy to press in, he sunk back, easing himself onto Eggsy’s cock with a wrecked groan that turned into a strangled whine. Between Eggsy’s absence and the stress of the week, Harry was gagging for the comfort of his dick.

            “Fuck yeah,” Eggsy rasped, running his hands up and down Harry’s back, before grabbing onto his hips with a bruising grip. He didn’t ease Harry into it, and Harry didn’t want him to. He wanted to feel every inch of Eggsy’s promise.

            Eggsy slammed into Harry, the force shoving him forward onto his shoulders. Harry pawed at the comforter, moaning with each jerk of Eggsy’s hips.

            “Look at this arse move,” Eggsy rambled, words almost slurred as he plowed into Harry, one hard thrust after the other. His words were nearly lost in the squelch of lubricant, the slap of flesh.

            Harry leveraged himself up, getting traction on the bed so he could meet of Eggsy’s thrusts. Eggsy dug his fingers in deeper into Harry’s sides. “Yeah, that’s right. Come on baby, want to see y’ dance. So fucking gorgeous.”

            The fat head of Eggsy’s cock grazed Harry’s prostate, and with a slight shift from Eggsy, he zeroed in on the bundle of nerves as if he were a homing missile. Harry cried out as Eggsy jackhammered into him, the force of his cock felt all the way in Harry’s gut.

            Harry dropped back onto one arm, wedging the other between his body and the bed so he could stroke his cock. Any coherent thought was lost. Split slicked his arm as he drooled, only capable of making pitchy whines as he lost himself.

            The tension coiling in his stomach, drawing his expanding balls up, released in a blinding orgasm. Harry sobbed into his arm, smearing saliva all over it as he milked himself.

            Eggsy’s speed stuttered and he relentlessly pounded into Harry, coming with a nearly beastly roar. The gush of cum branded Harry, a reminder of their passion.

            Harry collapsed onto the bed, Eggsy slumping over him. Eggsy didn’t move, didn’t lift off. He pressed his chest against Harry’s back, and Harry could feel the fast beat of his heart. Harry closed his eyes with a drunken smile.

            “I love y’,” Eggsy panted, hot breath ghosting over Harry’s sweaty shoulder.

            Harry reached back and laid his hand over Eggsy’s. “I love you too.”

* * * *

            The front door opened with a jingle and a curse. From the foyer, Eggsy complained, “Bloody hell, it’s raining cats and dogs out there.” He paused, and Harry smiled, waiting for Eggsy to say more. He popped his head around the corner, damp bangs clinging to his forehead, and looked at Harry with wide eyes. “Do I smell wot I think I smell?”

            Harry gestured to the plate of cookies warming on the counter. He threw the towel he’d been drying a bowl with over his shoulder and announced, “Welcome home, darling.”

            Eggsy walked over to the chocolate chip cookies and grabbed one. He took a large bite, chocolate and crumbs smearing his lips, and groaned, “Fuck, that’s the shit.” Eggsy crowded Harry into a corner, still holding the cookie in his hands, and tried to kiss Harry.

            “None of that,” Harry laughed, weakly pushing at his shoulders.

            “Gimmie a kiss,” Eggsy said, making a kissy face.

            Harry relented, folding his arms around Eggsy’s waist, and hauling him into a sweet, chocolate-flavored kiss.


End file.
